


breathe light

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: SASO 2017 [14]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Challenge: Sports Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2017, Gen, Kuroko no Basuke Extra Game, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 19:51:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11297655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: He steps closer, reaches out to lay a hand on Akashi’s arm, and Akashi tries not to shudder, tries not to shrink into his solitary grandeur.





	breathe light

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SASO 2017 Bonus Round 2: Tic-Tac-Toe | Prompt: breathe light  
> [originally posted here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22249.html?thread=11672809&posted=1#cmt12313321)
> 
> (Note: this is set after Extra Game/Last Game, and may not make much sense if you haven't read or watched it)

“Is he gone?”  
  
Akashi’s hand is already on the half-open car door. The radio’s on in the front, playing the stately strains of a violin concerto. _Mozart. Rainy afternoons. The thick scent of tea and lemon._ Beneath his feet, stubborn daisies push their way up through the cracks in the concrete.   
  
He does not turn around. He had heard Kuroko coming, which means Kuroko wanted it that way; and his quiet question tells Akashi everything he needs to know about his expression right now. It’s no small thing, for Kuroko to make his presence felt. If Akashi turned now, he might break something again.  
  
So he looks up instead. The setting sun is ablaze in the sky. It would taste like wildfire in his mouth, and the burn would be a purifying release. Slowly, he lets go of his white-knuckled grip on the door handle, arm falling to his side.  
  
“I think so,” he says. It is lonelier than he cares to admit.  
  
Aloud, the words don’t sound real. They reverberate with a finality that he cannot take back. It’s not like he’s feeling hollow inside, or anything so dramatic as that. It’s not like he has really lost anything. It’s just that he doesn’t know how to be a whole person. It is a discomforting sensation, not to know something.  
  
Conversations inside his head are easy enough to sweep aside, to compartmentalise, and he’s good at that; keeping things neat, when they’re within his control. But as Kuroko speaks again, Akashi is reminded that with him, control was always a delusion. _A distraction._ Perhaps Kuroko even encouraged it.   
  
They are past that time, now. It is possible that they are past many things. There are limitations even to the Emperor Eye, especially off the court, and there is much on the horizon that is new to Akashi.  
  
“Akashi-kun,” Kuroko’s saying, calling him back to himself.   
  
He steps closer, reaches out to lay a hand on Akashi’s arm, and Akashi tries not to shudder, tries not to shrink into his solitary grandeur. He can’t help tensing anyway. Old habits aren’t unlearned in one moment of surrender.  
  
He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. In his mind, Mozart starts up again. He can feel his fingers move on their own, a well-worn vibrato he has practised a thousand times. There is solace in the familiarity of it.  
  
 _I’m all right,_ he wants to say. _I’m me. The me you know. The me you believed in all along._  
  
He leans, infinitesimal, into Kuroko’s touch, his cool shadow. _No._ No longer a shadow.   
  
“It’s strange,” he admits. “I don’t miss him. But I hope he’s okay.”  
  
“Mmm. I think he will be.”  
  
In Kuroko’s voice, he can hear—  
  
Not light, no, that’s not Kuroko’s style; but a soft embracing, something that rests against his sharp edges, the places where they’ve cut each other up and still breathe.  
  
“Because you’ve always been a kind person, Akashi-kun.”  
  
(No sentimental affection, only sincerity, and when Akashi turns at last, Kuroko’s smiling.)


End file.
